


The Art of Propagation

by TheMouthKing



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Yearning, enthusiasticaudience gave me a pass for all the latin names so don't come for me, greenhouse au, latin plant names, welcome to the interior of my mind i literally dream of plant names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMouthKing/pseuds/TheMouthKing
Summary: Link is newly single and looking to settle into his new apartment by getting some tropical plants. The last thing he expected to happen was to discover that the owner-operator of the garden center, Rhett (who goes by Jamie), was so disarmingly gorgeous. Will he make it out of the greenhouse without making a fool of himself?
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 39
Kudos: 68





	The Art of Propagation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohox/gifts), [imincognitohere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imincognitohere/gifts), [EnthusiasticAudience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnthusiasticAudience/gifts).



> Y'all I went to a greenhouse and had a fucking spiritual experience, and now I'm sharing it with you. You're welcome. This is purely self-indulgent. I don't care if no one wants this, *I* want this, and that's all that matters.

The parking lot outside the greenhouse is empty except for one motorcycle parked near the entrance, and Link might wonder if it was open or not except for the fact that the doors are all slung open wide. Getting out, he crunches his way across the gravel towards the buildings. There’s several, one large building — obviously where the registers are, and likely the pots and accessories, so he figures he’ll go there last — and several others spread out beside and behind the big one. Link’s never been to a garden center with so many greenhouses, and he wonders how this place has been kept secret from him for so long. After all he’s lived in the area for years, but for at least the last year and a half he hadn’t been exploring places like this, because his boyfriend hadn’t wanted a house full of plants.

Well, ex-boyfriend now. Which was why he was here. New place, new Link — or that was supposed to be the plan anyway. In reality, he’d moved into his new place and fallen into a lonely funk. He’d barely unpacked for almost three months until a friend came over and helped him get settled. That weekend, his friend had told him he needed to get busy figuring out what he wanted — all the stuff he couldn’t do for whatever reason when he was with his ex — and do it. Start finding himself, doing the things he liked doing again. Which is how he’d ended up here at a greenhouse he’d heard about from said friend, planning to find a few new green friends to make his apartment feel homey.

There’s no one around to ask if customers are allowed in the greenhouses, so after a few moments deliberation, he just goes for it. He starts off towards the one to the far right, deciding he’ll move through them from right to left and check out the big main one last. He’s not in the first greenhouse long, finding that it’s mainly outdoor plants and he’s really looking for tropicals, so he moves on to the next.

The first plants that greet him are big variegated elephant ears and tall speckled [dieffenbachia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dieffenbachia) swaying in the breeze generated by the big greenhouse fans, tall as his hips and with leaves bigger than his head. As he passes by, he presses his palm against one of the leaves like he’s saying hello to it, and moves on, past a very large, very old variegated prickly pear cactus, and ducks down to check the price on it — $80 isn’t bad, given the size of it, but he’s thinking about the light in his new apartment and he’s not sure he wants to dedicate so much prime bright light space to this guy, so he moves on down the aisle.

Most of the other plants he passes aren’t labeled out with prices, but he recognizes a lot of them instantly — a sea of split-leaf plants, [rhaphidophora tetrasperma](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhaphidophora_tetrasperma), lining the side and middle rows of shelving, hanging baskets of [monstera adansonii](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monstera_adansonii) and a few different types of [hoyas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoya) — but there’s a fair amount of things he’s seeing for the first time, and that’s exciting because he’s actually not all that new to tropical plants, he just hasn’t been able to have any in awhile. He’s trying to make a mental note of questions he’s got for whoever’s working, if they ever come around, as he works his way to the back of the greenhouse, past patches of [peperomia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peperomia) and a few tall palms, and finds a little work station in the back.

Link has the distinct feeling he shouldn’t be back here. These plants don’t have prices either, but they’re far more rare, he can tell — [philodendron silver sword](https://www.google.com/search?q=philodendron+silver+sword&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS899US901&oq=philodendron+silver+sword&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l4j46j0l2.451j0j1&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8), [warszewiczii](https://www.google.com/search?safe=off&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS899US901&sxsrf=ALeKk03cchndpxchZXHYwaYLpIKeg4y-Rg%3A1595229796094&ei=ZEYVX9KpBZqPtAaJ4pT4CQ&q=philodendron+warszewiczii&oq=philwarszewiczii&gs_lcp=CgZwc3ktYWIQAxgAMgYIABAHEB4yBggAEAcQHjIGCAAQBxAeMgYIABAHEB4yBggAEAcQHjIICAAQBxAKEB4yBggAEAcQHjIICAAQBxAKEB4yCAgAEAcQChAeOhEIABCwAxCKAxC1AxDlAhCLAzoHCAAQRxCwAzoHCCMQsAIQJzoGCAAQDRAKUJYvWM4zYNc9aAFwAHgAgAFpiAGZA5IBAzEuM5gBAKABAaoBB2d3cy13aXq4AQI&sclient=psy-ab), [gloriosum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philodendron_gloriosum) — and others he’s definitely seen online but can’t remember the names of, heart shaped and long leafed philodendrons with variegation and velvet, bright veining and splashes of white. Link can’t even begin to guess what this small collection is worth.

He glances around to be sure he’s still alone — he is — and spots a half-empty bottle of Poland Spring and a denim jacket hanging from a nail in the wooden shelving at the back of the greenhouse, and wonders if he’s accidentally wandered into someone’s ‘office’ or workstation. Figuring he’d best not mess with anything, he moves away and back towards the front of the greenhouse. It’s strange, he still hasn’t seen a single living soul since he’d arrived, but he doesn’t think too much of it. Back towards the front, he’s lifting various pots of the rhaphidophora tetrasperma, trying to get a sense of which one he might like and finding them all far bigger than he’d anticipated and with leaves tangled up in neighboring plants, so he carries on moving along looking for one that seems a little less unwieldy, when suddenly he’s aware that he’s not alone.

“Hey there,” comes the bright, cheerful voice of the man who’d just appeared in the doorway, “Welcome to the greenhouse. Looking for anything in particular?”

Link freezes in place, plant in hand, and stares too long and too hard to be casual before his brain just-barely comes back online. He’s struck by the fact that the greenhouse man is fucking gorgeous. Long golden-blonde hair pulled back in a bun, slightly-wild beard that’s kept trimmed enough to accentuate his face, cheeks that go round when he smiles. And he’s tall, so goddamned tall it’s shocking, considering that Link is six feet himself, and it makes him feel small by comparison.

Very belatedly, Link realizes he needs to say something, and looking down at the plant in his hand, opens his mouth and regrets it immediately.

“Um, hi! Yeah, this rhapi-dopterra, uh- tetrasperma,” he’s mangled it, he knows he has, but there’s no way out — it’s practically impossible to pronounce under normal circumstances, but now, with probably the hottest guy he’s seen in a long time staring at him? Impossible.

Add to that the fact that the fucking latin name has _sperm_ in it. Fuck, seriously, why the hell does the first thing he says to this guy have to go like this?

“Rhaphidophora tetrasperma,” the guy says with ease and a warm, confident smile, and adds, “eh… let’s say $20.”

He’s clearly making up prices on the fly, and Link knows enough about tropicals to know these rhaphidophora tetrasperma aren’t from tissue culture, which means they should definitely be more than $20. Is this guy flirting with him? It’s been so long since he flirted with someone that it’s hard to know, and besides, these days it was more typical to meet someone to date or hook up with on an app rather than in person. He didn’t know how guys typically picked other guys up. Wasn’t there some kind of code?

“Okay,” he says and then kicks himself for it. _Okay??_ He couldn’t think of anything better to say than okay? “Thanks.” Good job, idiot.

The guy doesn’t make a move to leave so Link jumps at the chance to try and keep the conversation going and sets the plant he’s holding down and points to one of the hanging baskets and asks, “What about these [adansonii](https://www.gabriellaplants.com/products/4-monstera-adansonii-wide-leaf)?”

“That size is $30. There’s some smaller baskets in the next greenhouse over that are $20, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Link nods and looks in the direction of the next greenhouse over, but can’t see through to it due to the opaque walls. He’s doing his best not to stare at the guy and in doing so, his gaze lights on the middle tables and a long row of little pots of [philodendron Brandis](https://www.google.com/search?q=philodendron+brandi&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS899US901&oq=philodendron+brandi&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i59j0l3j69i60l3.5839j0j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8). They’re pretty uncommon and not easy to find, and he loves philodendrons and misses having interesting ones around.

“How about these guys?”

“Those,” the guy starts, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets as he considers, looking down at the rows of plants with their heart shaped leaves and silvery patterning, “tell you what, I can do you a better deal than I do for people shopping online. Online, they’d be like $75, but I could do $45 for you.”

He’s got to be flirting with him. _Has to be._ Right? He wishes he could get a second opinion from a friend so he knows for sure, but the reception out here is pretty spotty and besides, what is he, in high school? He doesn’t need to phone a friend. He’s got this. Except he definitely doesn’t have this.

“Oh wow, okay…” Link grazes his fingertips along the edge of one of the Brandi’s heart shaped leaves, and looks up at the guy briefly before looking away and acting like he’s seriously considering buying some insane kind of splashy white and green [colocasia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colocasia) he can’t immediately identify and doesn’t want to ask about, because his brain is shutting down and he doesn’t know how to move the conversation beyond asking prices.

The guy apparently has other things to do, or can sense that Link doesn’t have any more thoughts inside him to get out, because after a few moments he announces, “I’ll be back around if you need anything else. I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“I'm Charles,” Link announces, and immediately corrects himself, “Lincoln—” and again, “—Link."

“Ok, well, I'll be up at the main greenhouse if you need anything, Charles Lincoln Link.” Jamie just smiles at him steadily and gives him a none too sly once over before he turns and leaves.

“What the fuck,” Link hisses to himself once Jamie’s gone. How had he fucked up his _own name_ that badly? He never introduces himself as Charles to anyone, why had he decided to start now? Jamie probably thinks he’s an idiot. “Charles Lincoln Link. Way to go, moron.”

He’s still cringing over the interaction and how stupid he’d come off through it as he makes his way over to the next greenhouse, where he’s greeted by more of the rhaphidophora tetrasperma lining the center tables which he actually _does_ like and might get, and so starts making his way down the row lifting pots up and checking them out. He’s overwhelmed to have so many options, wants to take the time to look at all of them and find the one he likes the best, but there are too many plants for him to be able to do that. That doesn’t mean he’s not trying, but partway through he gives up when his attention is drawn elsewhere — hanging baskets of hoyas and he’s trying to remember which arrangement of variegation means it’s a princess and which means it’s a queen when further down the row, some long-leafed philodendrons catch his eye.

He’s not entirely sure what variety it is, but he knows he wants to get one. He moves down the row, careful to step over the twisted garden hose strewn along the concrete floor and he’s starting to turn different pots around to get a look at how much new growth each one has to compare, when suddenly he hears Jamie’s voice behind him. He jumps as he looks back over his shoulder at him, and this time he notices more — the black t-shirt, ripped jeans, work boots. His hands, large and strong. And his eyes, silvery green as the p. Brandis in the last greenhouse.

What had he even asked?

“Huh?” Link asks stupidly, painfully aware that he’s gone pink.

“I just asked how you were gettin’ on in here. You look a little overwhelmed,” Jamie says, leaning up against the doorway and trying not to smile too much at Link, aware that his presence is having an effect on him.

“Oh, uh, good. I mean, yeah, this place is huge — there’s so much to take in.”

If Link has any inkling that his response could be taken two two ways, he doesn’t let on.

“Oh, yeah. Take your time, there sure is a lot to offer here, there’s no rush,” Jamie practically twinkles when he smiles at him. Are they talking about the greenhouses still?

“You haven’t even gotten to the best part,” Jamie adds, nodding back towards the big greenhouse behind them, the one Link had decided to check out last.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Jamie doesn’t seem in any particular rush to leave and Link doesn’t want him to go again. He wants to keep talking to him so he sticks around this time, but he can’t begin to figure out how to strike up a conversation. So instead, he looks down at the table of philodendron he’s near and asks, “Hey, what kind are these?”

“Those are [philodendron Burle Marx](https://www.monrovia.com/plant-catalog/plants/3847/burle-marx-philodendron/).”

Now that Jamie’s said, Link does know what they are, it’s just that there’s a great deal of long-leafed philodendrons and they’re all fairly similar and it’s hard to keep them straight. He’s actually never seen a Burle Marx before in person, and he knows he’s definitely taking one home.

“How much?”

Again, the answer isn’t direct, like Jamie’s not recalling inventory pricing, but rather deciding how low he could go without being _too_ obvious and without just giving the plant away.

“That size, $20. You sure you don’t want to take that big guy home?” Jamie gestures to the large plant on the floor near the table, a Burle Marx but _massive_ , instead of a 6” pot like the ones Link had asked about, this one’s in at least a 12” pot and it stands taller than Link’s waist, growing up a tall moss pole.

“I honestly don’t know if I have the space for it,” Link says.

“I don’t either,” Jamie says easily, conversationally.

“I do want to get one big plant, but I’m looking for a big [monstera deliciosa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monstera_deliciosa) and then a few smaller ones.” After a pause, and in response to a question that hadn’t been asked, Link offers, “I’ve got a new place to fill up and nobody’s opinions to consider, so I’m treating myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie asks, still casual, but sounding interested, “Boyfriend wouldn't let you have plants, huh?”

Link goes so red so fast he’s glad for the heat of the greenhouse and hopes, by some wild chance, that it acts as some kind of cover.

“Uh, yeah. Ex-boyfriend. He didn't want plants all over…” Link fumbles around awkwardly, trying to fill the space his discomfort took up with words so there wasn’t room left to feel it, “...didn’t want the dirt in, and was afraid of pests, and always kept the AC on blast.”

Jamie just smiles. “Well, good, I’m glad you’re getting a fresh start… new place, new plants.” He pauses, and if Link’s not mistaken, takes the opportunity to give him a good, slow, thorough once over before asking, “—anything else I can help you out with?”

Before Jamie had arrived, Link had a bunch of questions. Plants he didn’t recognize, prices he wanted, but right now his mind is utterly and completely blank. Void of thoughts. All he’s thinking about is the fact that Jamie absolutely accurately pegged him as gay, and then immediately gave him _the look_.

Why can’t Link just have confidence like that? Instead, he’s got to just keep putting his foot in his mouth. Case in point:

“Nope, I’m good for now.”

It’s not until after Jamie leaves — with a smile and one last glance back — that Link is left to sit with his thoughts and replay the conversation over and over in his head and fixate on exactly what he's done wrong. Which was a lot. _Nope, I’m good for now!_ What the fuck, Link? This guy has basically uncovered the fact that he’s single and gay in the span of 4 minutes total elapsed conversation, and Link can’t find it in him to flirt back _at all?_

Not even a fucking _thank you._

Fuck. He’s got to know more about this guy. With the Burle Marxes temporarily forgotten, he drifts to the back of the greenhouse where he finds more little project plants — these a little less rare, but still definitely looking different than the stock for sale. Different pots, labels taped on differentiating each from the others, and they’re smaller, less full. Like they’re there to get some tlc.

Out of nowhere, Link decides he’s got to try and get information the old fashioned way — by trying to stalk his social media a little bit, but he doesn’t know anything more than his name, and the likelihood of him having the username “jamie” is slim to none. With instagram’s search open, he decides to punch in the name of the greenhouse, and once he’s at the page, he sees the greenhouse only follows one account: @rjmcplantlin.

He taps into the profile. The guy in the profile pic is definitely Jamie — same golden beard and long hair pulled back, same round, smiling cheeks and kind eyes — only here he’s peeking out from behind a bunch of leaves bigger than his head. Link smiles to himself as he reads his profile:

**Rhett James “Jamie” McLaughlin**

Owner-operator of McLaughlin’s Garden Center. 👨🌾 Certified tree-hugger. 🌳 Aroid addict. 🌱

Libra. ⚖️ Single. 🌈

_Well, that answers that question,_ Link thinks to himself as he starts to scroll through his pictures and finds, not surprisingly, most of his pictures are of plants. He spots a couple of posts featuring the plants he’d seen in the back of the last greenhouse looking a lot smaller, presumably when he’d first gotten them. Carrying on down his page, he sees a few wide greenhouse shots, more pictures of individual plants, mostly tropical but some various blooms he knows are local plants, but there are also some images of a different space; one that’s residential, cozy and lived in. Jamie’s apartment, he’s guessing. He sees a shot of a big picture window with a tall wooden ladder shelf set up in front of it with different plants spaced over the shelves, and beyond the glass of the window is the blurred perspective view of greenhouse roofs. Does Jamie live on the grounds here?

He’s scrolling on down the page to see if he can figure it out when he’s startled out of his thoughts and damn near caught red handed.

“Howdy.”

Jamie’s close enough behind him that Link’s almost certain he’d seen what he’d been doing and he tries to close out of the app so fast he almost drops his phone in the process.

“Still doing alright?” If Jamie had noticed Link’s insta-stalking he’s not letting on, just carries on being perfectly friendly and helpful, the picture of perfect customer service with a hint of charming, confident flirtation.

Link just stares at him and stammers as he stuffs his phone in the ass pocket of his jeans and scans around the greenhouse. _Question, do you have one? Think of something to ask him, you moron!_ He’d been so lost in going on a deep dive through Jamie’s instagram that he’d forgotten what he was doing. His gaze stops on a few large nursery pots of sansevieria and, grasping at straws to escape his own awkwardness, asks, “Are those [whale fins](https://www.google.com/search?q=whale+fin+snake+plant&rlz=1C5CHFA_enUS899US901&oq=whale+&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j69i57j46j0l2j69i60l2j69i61.1293j0j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8)?”

“They _are_ ,” Jamie says, voice lilting up fondly with a warm smile as he edges a little bit closer to Link, hands in his pockets, watching him flounder.

“How much are they?”

“I could do $40.”

“Seriously?” Link can’t help asking, shocked given the size of both the pot and the plant. With the number of leaves and how tall it is, he’d have expected it to be closer to $60 or even more.

Jamie just shrugs and smiles, and gives him a reprieve from scrutiny, looking down the length of the greenhouse over the wind-swept leaves covering every surface, taking a moment to think before he answers. Link can’t help getting caught up in stealing a glance when it feels like there’s room to, drinking in the heavy dusting of freckles on his cheeks and forearms and finds himself wondering if they extend down under his shirt, over his broad shoulders, down his chest and back.

“Yeah, definitely. Besides, I know it’ll be going to a good home,” Jamie adds, bringing his attention back to Link with a smile.

Okay, maybe more than just a _hint_ of flirtation.

“Okay, wow,” Link doesn’t know what to say and so defaults to his usual, standing there awkwardly, speechless and struggling. He swipes a hand through his hair in a near-pointless effort to fix it — it’s so hot in the greenhouse he can feel his shirt starting to stick to his shoulders and upper arms, a drop of sweat running down his back, and Jamie just standing there looking like the perfect combination of windswept, dirty from work and wholly comfortable surrounded by tropical plants and the heat of the greenhouse crushing in on all sides isn’t helping any.

This time around, he’s not messing this up, at least not as badly as he has been. At some point he’s going to need to check out and pay, and then he’s going to have to leave — there’s a clock on this if he wants to flirt back. He’s got to get with it, or else he’s going to miss his chance.

“Thanks,” he says. Is that fucking _it?_ Link stands there, willing himself to think of something else to say, “Uh, seriously. That’s really nice of you…”

He’s blowing it, he realizes, and drops his attention away from Jamie just so he doesn’t have to witness how spectacularly badly he’s doing.

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t go spreading it around town or I’ll have a bunch of angry gardeners on my hands when they show up and find out it was a one-time only, cute guy special.”

Link wishes he could rewind time because he’s not totally sure he heard him right. Belatedly he realizes he had, and — once it fully hits him that Jamie had called him cute _to his face_ , in spite of how spectacularly stupid he was — he’s grinning at him like a damn teenager. He can feel his cheeks burning hot as his brain fixates on the comment and simultaneously goes completely blank. He’s at a loss as to what to say to that, surprise surprise, but somehow he manages to string some words together finally. Which isn’t to say he’s recovered, just that he starts talking.

“Oh okay, of course. I wouldn’t— um, yeah, definitely,” he’s _got_ to stop talking. “Oh my god, I’m so bad at this.”

Jamie can’t help watching Link dig himself in deeper for a moment or two, and judging by the expression on his face, it seems like he’s thoroughly endeared by Link’s haplessness. After letting him go on for a little bit, Jamie puts him out of his misery.

“Doesn’t look so bad from here,” he says, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear. “Anything you know for sure you want to get that I can bring up to the register for you, save you some juggling?”

“Oh, um… y-yeah, I’m gonna take this whale fin,” Link points to the one he likes best — there are only three, so it’s not hard to make a selection — and he bends over to pick it up and when Jamie takes a step towards him, he comes closer pass it to him. As they make the exchange their hands brush — Jamie’s rough, calloused hands skimming Link’s soft skin, and dear God does Link yearn to feel those rough hands touching him elsewhere.

Jamie tucks the pot carefully against his body, one hand cupped up under the base, so he’s still got one hand free. This is the first they’ve stood this close, and Jamie looks like he’s taking the opportunity to look at him a little more closely, wholly unguarded, and the sheer bold confidence of it is enough to take Link’s breath away.

“I’m gonna go set this aside for you,” he says. “You said you were lookin’ for a big monstera? Wait till you get up to the last greenhouse.”

“Oh, uh, yeah? Got some big boys up there?”

Instantly, Link regrets absolutely everything about that sentence and actually closes his eyes in utter disbelief that he’d actually said that, as if that’ll somehow erase it from existence. Unfortunately, it does not.

Jamie laughs, not unkindly, just amused and letting himself enjoy the moment. He nods as he shifts the whale fin in his arms, “ _Lots_ of big boys. Take your time, I’ll see you up there.”

Link is seriously considering fully bailing on this shopping trip, just bolting to his car and leaving and never coming back ever again, just to save whatever shred of dignity he had left, but he knows he can’t just walk away from this. He’s a complete disaster, but Jamie doesn’t seem put off by that and Link doesn’t think he can live with himself if he doesn’t at least try.

With Jamie gone, Link is left thinking about how gentle his touch was despite being so tall and broad, despite his hands being so rough and worn. The juxtaposition of it is thrilling, the strength and earthy masculinity of him shot through with this gentleness, like his size made him all the more aware that he needed to be careful with delicate things. Not that Link was delicate — he definitely wasn’t — but he’s thinking about the one and two leaf propagations in the other greenhouse that Jamie’s clearly been babying, anchored them carefully to little stakes in their tiny pots with gardening tape. Link has never before in his life considered just how hot a man who could keep rare, temperamental tropical plants alive and thriving could possibly be.

It takes way longer than it should for Link to make his selections from this greenhouse. He knows there’s a whole other room to look through, but he wants to be done down here before going up that way. When he finally does, he’s got a plant in each hand — one of the p. Burle Marxes, and a rhaphidophora tetrasperma. He decides to pass on the p. Brandi for now because he’s still hoping to get a big monstera, despite the fact that he’s going to have to face having called them big boys, and doesn’t want to shell out $45 for a small plant when what he’s aiming for in this first round of shopping is to anchor the new space with some statement plants. So he’ll hold off, get smaller and more uncommon plants another time, if he can ever bear to show his face around here again after making such a fool of himself.

As Link approaches the open door to the shop and final greenhouse, an upward glance confirms that it does look like there’s an apartment above the store. Coming into the shop, he doesn’t say anything because he’s done enough already to look like an idiot, and he’s not keen to add nosy stalker to the list. Jamie’s sitting on a tall stool behind a long, wooden counter, scrolling through something on his phone when he spots Link and pushes the device aside.

Jamie eyes up the plants Link’s got in his arms and reaches out across the counter to take them from him and set them beside the tall, three gallon sized pot that’s currently housing the whale fin he’s got set aside for him.

“Passed on the Brandi?”

“Yeah, for now. I want to get the monstera—,” don’t say big boys, _don’t_ say big boys, “—and see what else you’ve got up here, so I figured I should wait on that.”

“Fair enough,” Jamie says, tucking the Burle Marx and the rhaphidophora tetrasperma on the counter beside the larger whale fin and settles back down on his stool and eyes Link as he adjusts his shirt and looks towards the entrance from the shop into the big, main greenhouse — what looks like the area geared more towards retail space, given the glimpse he can see from here. The greenhouses he’s just been through had more of a nursery feel, unlabeled, unpriced, just lined up and healthy and growing.

Link disappears through the short breezeway into the greenhouse and he’s absolutely taken by how many plants there are. He was right, this is the retail space, and rather than a long slender greenhouse with maybe a dozen types of plants each, this one’s double or triple the width of the others and there are dozens if not hundreds of different types of plants, from thirty foot tall elephant ears and birds of paradise to different kinds of ‘strings of’ hanging from the rafters and trailing to the floor and beyond.

To the left there're a half-dozen large, mature monsteras — just like he was hoping to find, and he can’t even bring himself to stop and check them out to pick one until he’s made a circuit through the whole room. There’s so much to take in, and he’d take everything home if he could, but the monstera are massive and if he’s going to have any hope of getting it in the car, he’s going to have to hold off on some others for the time being. Not to mention, he’s got a short list of other things he wants to pick up — potting soil and mix-ins, a big pot for the monstera — and he’s trying to stick to a budget, more or less.

He doesn’t have a sense of how much time has elapsed by the time he’s finished looking at everything, snagged a random little blue cactus along the way, and circled back to the monsteras to pick one out. He sets the little cactus down on a patio table that’s been set up as a display and sitting area, and moves along the row of big plants to get a good look at them. There’s already one he’s leaning towards, a little taller than the rest and the topmost leaves already have their second fenestrations, the rows of holes on the interior of the leaves that line up with the long, deep slits.

Link rests his hand on the leaf and splays out his fingers — it’s massive, so much bigger than his head — and then crouches down to get a good look at the new growth hidden under the dark green, hardened leaves, and finds a few softer, paler green leaves curled up and ready to unfurl. If he’s honest, he’s already made his choice, but he takes a look at the others nearby just to be sure. When he’s made up his mind, he tugs the plant out from the wall by the lip of its nursery pot and hefts it up into his arms. It’s heavy, but not unmanageable, and after a bit of adjustment he can almost see past it and starts to head back towards the breezeway to check out finally, when he realizes he’d forgotten the little cactus and goes back, crouches down and snags it carefully before making his way back out to the register where Jamie’s waiting, seated, watching his approach. Link can barely be seen behind the huge, leafy plant.

“Uh oh,” Jamie remarks loudly, “The plants are growing legs and trying to escape again, time to get the hose.”

Link’s already smiling when he tries to set the plants he’s holding down — first the cactus, which he almost drops and which Jamie snags before he can, then the monstera which takes a try before he’s got it on the countertop.

“You really weren’t kidding about that last greenhouse… I think I could live there. Put a hammock in, coffee maker, I’d be set.”

“Is that all it would take?” Jamie asks with a twinkling grin, holding eye contact with Link as he becomes visible from behind the plant.

Predictably, Link goes pink and fails to find the words to respond, fishing around in the pocket of his jeans for his wallet and desperately trying to figure out something to say.

“Pretty much, yeah,” is what Link lands on, voice higher than he’d like it to be, and he can’t stop smiling like a freaking idiot. God, this guy has to think he’s a real piece of work. Link just wants to pay and get out of here before he can make this worse. Maybe after he gets a chance to decompress with a friend and figure out a game plan for next time, he’ll come back and try and make a move. In a few weeks. After he’s had a chance to forget some of this burning shame.

Only then does Jamie shift his attention to the plants that Link’s brought up to the desk.

“You think you’re gonna be good with these guys?” Jamie asks, tapping the iPad in front of him to wake it up and starts to punch up a new sale in the POS.

“I think so, yeah,” Link says, and then, “Oh, right! I wanted to get one of those big gray terracotta pots, for the monstera. And a big bag of potting mix.”

There are odds and ends he’d wanted to get too — perlite and some other things to aerate the soil for the aroids, but he’s got to let the monstera acclimate to his home for a bit before he repots it anyway, and leaving a few things off the list gives him an excuse to come back.

“Nice,” Jamie says, adding that into the sale. They’re nearby in a stack, and he’ll grab one when he helps Link out to the car — whenever that happens.

Jamie’s still adding the various plants Link had picked out to the sale, and Link’s attention drifts from the total as it adds up and over to a little portable test tube propagation vessel tucked down on top of the dirt of the whale fin, a long vine with five or six green and silver leaves sticking out.

At first, Link doesn’t know what to say (of course) or how, and just smiles to himself, looking down at his wallet in his hands. He _has to_ say something, he can’t just leave and not acknowledge it. Jamie puts the monstera in — $55, an unimaginable discount — and Link somehow musters up the nerve to speak.

“Is that a Brandi cutting?”

Jamie smiles to himself, adds in the little cactus, hits total, and looks up across the counter at Link.

“Mhm. Consider it a housewarming present, get you started with a little mini propagation station,” he says, and watches as Link flounders around trying to respond to the sweet gesture, so he interrupts his efforts with, “—after all, they say propagating’s more fun with a friend.”

That did it — Link can’t manage anything at all after that and the expression on his face says that he knows _exactly_ what Jamie meant by that comment, so he defaults to just trying to pay because he can’t get his card to read in the machine and say thank you at the same time. He manages to swipe his chip card, which elicits a mechanical error beep, and then inserts the chip backwards somehow. Jamie has to hold the thing down so Link can pull his card back out and right it. Or maybe he doesn’t _have_ to, just wants to — an excuse to brush against his hand again.

“Thank you,” Link somehow manages finally. He can’t even respond to the propagation comment.

When their hands touch, it’s truly all Link can do to play it even remotely cool (he doesn’t manage it at all). As he’s punching his PIN into the keypad, all he can think about is that next, he’s got to leave. He’s not even thinking about how the hell he’s going to get the plants out to the car, just the fact that he’s got to leave after this, and this is his chance if he wants to say anything else. So he goes for it.

“What, uh… what’re you doing after you get off?”

Jamie blinks at him as though he’s just waiting for him to figure out what he’d just said, and he’s absolutely charmed by the effort at the same time.

“—of work, when you get off _of work_ ,” ohmygod, “What are you doing after work?”

“Well,” Jamie says, smiling and obviously thoroughly enjoying every second of Link’s struggle, “I’m already off work. You’ve been keeping me here late for almost forty-five minutes.”

Link looks horrified. If he wasn’t already red, then he is again as he looks up at the clock over Jamie’s head that reads 5:43 and spins around to look at the entrance. The signs are spun around so the COME IN, WE’RE OPEN faces inwards — Jamie’s been closing up shop around him for almost an hour and letting him take his time exploring. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more embarrassed in his life.

“Oh my god, I’m— oh _god_ , I’m so sorry,” Link stammers as he struggles his card back in his wallet and tries to stuff his wallet back into his pants pocket.

“It’s fine,” Jamie tries to reassure him, but Link can’t be reassured.

“I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything—”

“Are you blaming me for you keeping me at work almost an hour late?”

“No, of course not!”

Link looks like he’s withering beneath the weight of his own awkwardness and embarrassment, trying to dig his way out of the situation, and Jamie looks pleased as hell to have a front row seat for it.

“Can I buy you dinner or something to apologize? I feel so awful about this,” Link tries.

“Absolutely not,” comes Jamie's quick response.

The sudden, flat rejection feels like a slap, especially after all of the flirting — it _had_ been flirting, right? — all afternoon, and he can’t conceal the hurt in his expression. But it’s short lived, because as soon as Jamie says it, he leans forward on the counter, arms folded as he slides an inch or two closer and carries on.

“—because I’d like to make you dinner instead.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for liking, commenting, and propagating. 🌱


End file.
